


Tantalus

by garrideb



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Desert, Gen, Hallucinations, Murder, Roller Coaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-16
Updated: 2011-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garrideb/pseuds/garrideb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After processing two corpses in the desert, Grissom escapes reality on his favorite roller coaster.  Written: 6/2006</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tantalus

**Author's Note:**

> This story was first posted to the _CSI Forensics_ archive under the name [AutumnOak](http://www.csi-forensics.com/viewuser.php?uid=811).

This was just what he needed – a release of adrenaline, a natural high. It didn't matter how short lived. It just mattered that it was now.

With a clang the roller coaster began its ascent. Grissom leaned back in the seat, his eyes closed. This part of the ride was slow and rather bumpy as the cars were pulled up the track at a steep angle. Grissom appreciated it for what it was - a chance for anticipation to build up to make the adrenaline that much more potent.

Normally he kept his eyes open, but tonight Grissom focused completely on the motion. Without sight, he could concentrate on his body. Gravity and force worked to pin him to the seat. His limbs felt twice as heavy as normal, so he let them drop to his sides.

He had been on this particular ride enough to know when he was nearing the top. He knew that if he opened his eyes right now he'd see Vegas spread below him like an offering of lights. Tonight he didn't drink it in. He wasn't ready to open his eyes yet.

He was in the first car, so the descent began tauntingly slow as the empty cars behind him kept his from falling fast. A tip of his world and now Grissom was pressed forward in his seat. He tried grabbing the bar in front of him for support, but his arms didn't want to lift. He didn't bother fighting it.

And there – there was the plummet, building up like a crescendo in his favorite aria. It felt like a strong wind was whipping past him, but he knew it was the other way around. He was the wind tonight. Either way, it felt wonderful against his hot skin.

He could have used a breeze earlier that day. He'd been called out to process two bodies found in the desert. The air had been hot and stiflingly still. The dry heat still clung to his skin.

The coaster banked hard to the right at the same moment something vibrated against his hip. He reveled in the first sensation and ignored the second.

Up, down. He remembered that soon the track would spiral like a strand of DNA, tipping him upside down. It was always a rush.

Once again he tried to grab the safety bar, but his arms still weren't responding. He managed to lift his left hand a few inches, but that was all before he had to let it drop back. It brushed past his pager on the way down, and Grissom realized that was where the buzzing was coming from.

Grissom frowned. Why had he brought his pager with him on the ride? The risk of it falling off was enough that he always stashed it in the cubbies by the coaster's exit.

And why was the lab paging him? He'd fully processed both bodies, down to the very last pupa. All samples were with trace or DNA by now. His shift was over.

Maybe they had found another body?

Grissom swallowed, his mouth dry. It was a distinct possibility. The two victims they had found had been at different stages of decomposition. It wasn't much, but it was enough to indicate a serial killer instead of a double homicide.

The buzzing stopped and Grissom released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Maybe he'd call the lab back, maybe he wouldn't. For some reason he couldn't quite grasp, Grissom wished he hadn't responded to his pager this morning.

"I need you out here," Brass had said as soon as he had answered the call. "Maybe if the bugs tell you what happened, we can finish early and get a drink. You'll be needing one."

'Here' had turned out to be a mile hike into the foothills of Sheep Range. By the time Grissom and his police escort had reached the crime scene, he was sweating profusely and had already finished half a water bottle. The sky was mercilessly cloud-free, and even though it was only seven in the morning, it was already in the upper nineties.

"It's a shame the patrol cars can't make it up here," Brass had groused. He'd been standing in the shade of a boulder until he saw Grissom approach. His coat was flung over an arm and his sleeves rolled up. His ever-present tie had been loosened drastically, making him look a lot more harried than Grissom was used to. "I mean, if this guy has to kill, why can't it be somewhere with AC?"

Grissom had given the detective a pointed look, and Brass had sighed. "Right. I guess the heat doesn't bug your bugs. The first body is over here..."

Behind shut eyelids Grissom could see it all. He tried not to think about it, not now as he sliced through the Las Vegas sky, but the scene of stark cruelty in the desert was hard to forget.

The corpse was still sitting upright, propped up against a steel post jutting out from the earth. A thick chain ran through a loop in the post and connected the steel cuffs around each wrist. The chain kept the corpse's arms from resting on the ground - instead they hung limply, slightly behind his body.

But what had really caught Grissom's eye lay less than two meters from the victim's feet. There, nestled in the dry dirt, was a large canteen. It was clear, so that Grissom - and most likely the victim, when he had still been able to see - could tell that it was filled to the cap with water.

"I get the feeling this guy was alive when the perp left him here," Brass had said as he stood at the CSI's side.

"The punishment of Tantalus." Gil hadn't been able to tear his eyes off of the scene. If the victim had stretched out as far as the chains would allow him, he would still be inches away from the water. "The other vic?" He had asked softly.

"She didn't do any better. It's the same - chained in the desert with a water bottle just out of reach."

The same officer who had walked him from the car took him to the second scene. Like Brass had said, it was the same. But she was much further decomposed - Grissom estimated at least a week. Bugs covered a good third of her body, drawn to the moisture and sustenance of flesh. Ironically, the water bottle nearby was undisturbed by insects, the thin plastic keeping the water and the desert a world apart.

He'd collected some beetles and stood up, and that's when he'd caught sight of yet another steel post. It was down a steep slope from where he stood, almost obscured by some boulders. The chain hanging from it was empty.

The coaster spun upside down again, and Grissom let the dizziness wash over his brain. The ride would be over soon, and then he'd go home. Maybe he'd stop by one of the park's concession stands first and get their largest soda. He was very thirsty.

Maybe he'd take Jim up on that drink. Or was the detective still in a foul mood? Jim always got angry when Grissom wandered off to unclear areas of a crime scene. "Jesus, Gil. Do they need to fit you CSIs with cowbells? The landscape here is a downright maze. The last thing I need is a misplaced entomologist."

Strangely, he couldn't quite remember if that's what Jim had said. It sounded right, but the dizziness was making it hard to think. Had he even spoken to Jim after spotting the empty post? He'd climbed down the slope and then...

The coaster surged upwards. This was the last drop of the tracks - then the ride was over. Grissom gave up on grasping the blurred memories of the rest of the day. He only had a few more seconds of his favorite rush.

The wind whipped past him and his heart pounded as he fell with the tracks. The deceleration was sudden and caused him to slump forward in his seat. The chain caught him across his chest, and he sat there, completely still, his arms still limp behind him. The position put pressure on his shoulders, causing them to ache. He didn't move, just breathed.

Without the wind, he was hot again. Burning. The feeling of dread he'd managed to push back during the ride resurfaced. He tried to keep his eyes closed, but his eyelids felt gritty and against his will he blinked.

The coaster, the tracks, and the park slipped away, no match for the desert sun.


End file.
